Empires Apart by Brian Landers Page B

of Suzdal had been the overlord of the Ryazan princes; he became the Mongols’ next target. He left his family for safety in the city of Vladimir so the Mongols headed there. When his wife refused to come out of the church where she was hiding her children the Mongols simply torched the building. Yuri himself was killed in battle a month later, along with most of his army. The Mongols then turned their focus to the far north-east and the rich trading city of Novgorod. Here they met their only serious setback.
From Novgorod to Kulikovo
    The story of Novgorod could fill a chapter on its own. Until the time of Ivan the Terrible, centuries after the first Mongols appeared, the city developed along its own unique lines, as it had done in the centuries before the Mongols arrived. In some Russian histories it appears as an Athenian-like city state embracing democracy long before the feudal states of western Europe. Many nations have claimed to be the home of democracy. Greece can point to the glories of Athens, where government by the people, the demos, was first a reality – at least for those parts of the population who were not female, were not slaves and lived during those few periods of Athenian history when the demos held real power. France points to the liberty, equality and fraternity of the French Revolution, although the guillotine is an unlikely symbol of true democracy. America points to the promises of the Declaration of Independence and the US Constitution, promises that rang hollow for generations of black slaves. Britain prides itself on being the birthplace of parliamentary democracy, although the parliament of Iceland is far older. And the Russians have Novgorod.
    Novgorod, on the Gulf of Finland, was one of the major trading centres of Europe, and by the middle of the twelfth century it was a functioning democracy, governed by the people, the ‘veche’. The veche elected the local officials, even the local bishop. The powers of the local prince were severely limited by formal agreements with the veche, which laid down what he was allowed to do and prescribed in detail what taxes he was allowed to collect: all this well before the English barons compelled King John to subscribe to less onerous restrictions in the Magna Carta. The prince was even banned from living within the city walls; he was essentially a military leader hired by the veche to defend the city.
    But to see Novgorod as a gleaming example of democracy in a region tumbling into absolutism is a considerable exaggeration. It is tempting to look back on medieval Novgorod through the prism of modern ideologies as a golden period of European proto-democracy, but the facts are somewhat different. Teleologic is no logic. The veche consisted of all male citizens. Women were not empoweredand, although slavery had largely disappeared in the city itself, it still survived in the rural areas over which Novgorod exerted its authority. Minority groups, particularly the rich German merchants, had to live in designated areas and had no formal political power. Meetings of the veche, which could be called by anyone ringing the town bell, could be heated. These meetings were open affairs, and were known on occasions to break up into competing gatherings on either side of the Volkhov river. Disputes were then settled by brawls on the bridge; the concept of the secret ballot was unknown. In practice Novgorod was governed by an assembly of some fifty wealthy merchants, boyars (landowners) and officials. Novgorod was a principality run by an oligarchy, dressed like a republic and remembered as a democracy. In addition Novgorod was an imperial power, grabbing territory as far east and north as the Urals, the upper Volga and the White Sea. No form of government that relies on military might to contain its people within an imperial framework can claim to be a true democracy.
    Novgorod withstood the Mongol siege, and as a consequence was able to maintain a degree